


The Whole World in his Hands

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Superman, Dark fic, Dark!Clark Kent, F/M, Superman - Freeform, dark!fic, dc, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Warnings: noncon sex, oral, stalking, some violence.This is dark!Clark and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.Summary: Your new neighbour isn’t as much of a stranger as you thought.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 276





	The Whole World in his Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write some Clark before I get back to writing my original stuff. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback <3

Your heart raced as you woke with a start.

Most mornings struck you violently. Your dreams, nightmares truly, cut most nights short. But that day it wasn’t some imagined clang or explosion, it was an avalanche right outside your door. No visions of rubble and falling destruction lingered in your head, only the jarring sight of your dull reality.

You sat up on the couch where you’d fallen asleep to the buzz of some old rom-com from the 90s. You rubbed your eyes as you heard the his from the other side of your door. The tv was black, inert as it sat forgotten during your shallow slumber.

You stood and neared the door. You rested your fingers on the chain as it remained in place. You peered through the peep hole but couldn’t see more than some bent books across the hallway. You could hear others being clapped shut as the voice continued to berate the air.

Slowly, and with shaky fingers, you slid the chain from its slot and carefully turned the latch. A man was on his knees just outside your door, gathering up the mess of books flung across the carpet. You bent to take one as he paused and looked over at you. He stared for a moment, his blue eyes bright behind the slender frame of his glasses.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb you,” his voice was deep but gentle, “I tripped and, well…” he looked around with a bashful smile.

“No, it’s fine,” you stepped forward and placed the book atop his pile, “You moving in? It’s a bit early for that.”

“Just a few things for now,” he moved on his knees to the box and set the books inside before turning back to collect the rest. “So I guess we’re gonna be neighbours.”

He dropped the last few books into the box and stood. He lifted it easily, his thick arms barely straining under the weight of the hardcovers.

“Looks like,” you grumbled as you glanced at the door a few feet from your own. For the last month, the empty apartment had been under renovation for the new resident. The work had done little to improve your sleeping pattern. “Lift your feet after 417. The carpet,” you pointed to the subtle rise, “lifts a little. Also don’t come in through the west door. You’ll find yourself fighting for your key.”

“Ah, thanks,” he smiled. 

“Mmm,” you nodded and turned to retreat back into your apartment. The hallway was chilly and seeped through your thin pajama set. “Well, good luck.”

“Wait,” he called after you as you began to shut the door, “I’m Clark.”

You looked back at him. His square jaw, his dark hair, the line of his long nose; you couldn’t place it but he seemed familiar. _Well, your doctor told you deja vu was common but often unfounded._ You shrugged off the tickle along your neck and gave him your name.

“Some more advice, the people here aren’t exactly neighbourly,” you awarned, “Gertie in 416, she’ll toss your clothes in the bin if you leave them in the machine too long and Jeff beside her, he will know if you don’t lock your door when you take your trash out.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “And what about you?”

“I’m not a morning person,” you muttered and spun away, swiftly closing the door behind you with the heavy twist of the lock. 

You didn’t expect a guy like him to stay for more than a couple months. He looked like the type who could afford better but it wasn’t worth your trouble to wonder why he would move into a place like that. Besides, you had your own shit to worry about.

🚪

Your eyes were filled with dust, your vision hazy and dry. The screams and sharp whine of bending metal rang in your ears. You tasted blood but you couldn’t move. You were pinned beneath the heavy concrete, barely able to breath through the chaos.

The weight lifted suddenly and you were moved just as easily. You were dizzy as you soared through the air in the arms of your saviour. The blur of your mind kept him a mystery as all at once you stilled. As he set you down, the world turned black.

You awoke as you did every morning. Out of breath and reeling. 

The same dream every night, but it wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory. The first time you’d awoken, it had been to the fluorescent lights of a hospital room. Bruised, cut up, burnt; you were stable and would make a quick recovery, at least physically.

You dragged yourself off the couch. Again. You rarely made it to your bed. You knew it was hopeless. You’d just toss and turn until you ended up back in the living room.

You put the kettle on and flopped back on the cushions. You took out your phone and scrolled through the headlines. _One Year Since the Attack._ You closed your eyes and pressed your finger down. You let out a breath. You opened them and began to read.

_‘One year since the skies of Metropolis were painted in fire and it seems as if the dust has settled and the city’s former calm has returned. The streets are abuzz with the same fervour seen on that day only a year past and many have forgotten, or pretend to have, the event that brought them to their knees. A test for all, even the city’s own defender, the saviour they call Superman.’_

You scrolled past the testaments of witnesses and the flowery retelling of the nightmare that still haunted you. A whole year and you were still stuck in that moment. A year of appointments and even medication and you were still there. The scars on your body were little compared to those in your head.

_'Lois Lane is an award-winning author and a lifelong resident of Metropolis. She has worked abroad and covered events from New York to Cairo. She is currently the co-editor of journalism at Daily Planet.’_

You read the blurb and squinted at the photo of the red-headed writer. You’d seen her before, maybe on the same news site, or another, but you recalled her clearly, standing in front of you. Then the sky had come crashing down and she was gone and you were trapped. She’d been there that day in the rush of bodies frantic to escape the ruin. She had also left you a voicemail you’d ignored months ago. You were among those she’d wanted to interview for her article.

You flicked your thumb and quickly caught the screen before it scrolled too far. 'Other Staff Writers’; the header read. The third photo was just as familiar. Your new neighbour smiled back at you. Maybe that was why you’d felt so eerie.

You locked your phone as you heard the kettle quake in the kitchen and you went to brew your morning tea. As you stirred in the milk, you heard the creak of the door next to yours. 

You peeked out and unlocked your own. You opened it a few inches as Clark turned his key.

“You’re a journalist,” you said and he looked over surprised.

“I am,” he confirmed.

“Uh huh,” you sniffed, “I’m sure the Daily Planet pays you more than enough that you don’t have to live here.”

“Well, it’s not bad… but not really any of your business,” he shrugged.

“But it’s strange,” you insisted. “This place is a shit hole.”

“It’s not a bad neighbourhood.” He countered.

“There’s much nicer condos across the street,” you said.

“Touche,” he smiled, “So, you know what I do, what about you?”

You frowned and crossed your arms. You realised your spontaneous burst of curiosity had turned the magnifying glass on you.

“I write curriculum.” You said plainly. “Stuff like that.”

“Oh, a fellow writer.” He said as he tucked his keys away.

“Not exactly.”

“Well,” he checked his watch, “I’m going to be late. I’ll see ya.”

“Mm,” you pursed your lips. “Bye.”

You closed the door with a snap and the smell of your tea called you back to your isolation. You would sit down, empty the cup, then boot up your PC for the day’s work.

🚪

You were stiff after hours sat on your worn out chair. The borders of the screen were burned into your vision as you stood and stretched. It was later than you thought as you looked out the window. You went to the bedroom and scooped up the few pieces of clothes strewn over the chair and floor into the hamper. It was laundry day; you’d nearly forgotten.

You plopped the bottle of detergent in the top and your keys and wallet. You dragged the tall basket to the door and checked the hallway before stepping out. You turned down the next hall and fumbled with your keys. The door opened on its own before you found the right one.

You looked up as Clark smiled at you. You’d only ever seen him in his button-ups and his straight ties. It almost took you a moment to register who he was as he wore tee and jeans as he welcomed you in. You looked around the small space and blinked.

“I can wait,” You made to pick up the hamper but he was quicker. He lifted it over the threshold and across to one of the two washers.

“I’m only using one,” he planted the hamper on the floor. “I’m sure you can fit this all in one.”

He turned back to his own machine and reached into his own basket, shaking out each piece of clothing before dropping it inside. You stepped inside and let the door close heavily behind you. You neared and started to sort through your laundry quietly. He seemed content enough as he bent lower to grab the last of his clothes from the bottom of the basket.

“I’m getting divorced,” he said as he measured out the soap. “You asked why I was here.”

You looked at him as you loaded clothes into the mouth of the machine. You nodded, thrown off by his candour. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time coming. I think I was over it before we even started the whole… thing,” he poured the soap over his clothes and closed the lid. “All my money’s going to lawyer’s fees so for the time being, I’m living modestly.”

“You didn’t have to tell me. I’m sorry… sorry I asked. Sometimes… well, I get carried away.” You added soap to your machine and shut it. “Hopefully it doesn’t drag on and you can get out sooner than later.”

You lifted your empty basket onto the machine and shoved your keys in your pocket. You slid coins into the slot and chose your settings before hitting start. Clark mirrored you and beat you to the door. He held it open for you and you eyed him warily before passing through.

“Well,” he said as he followed you down the hall, “I wouldn’t consider it a downgrade.”

“Oh no?” You uttered dryly, “Did you live in a hole in the ground?”

“No,” He chuckled as you turned the corner, “But I met you. I’d say that’s an up.”

You stopped at your door and looked at him. You squinted. “Wow, must be a rough divorce.”

“Ha,” he scoffed, “You got me. All my friends are hers so don’t have many of those left.”

“Friends?” You repeated, “I’ve spent a grand total of about, oh I’d say five minutes talking to you.”

“Neighbours… we’ll work up to it.”

“You really can’t catch a hint, can you?” You shook your head.

“About as well as you,” He said as he passed you and went to his door, “I’ll see you on the dry cycle.”

🚪

You were drained by the time you got home. You left the building for few things; groceries, occasional work obligations you couldn’t complete from home, and therapy. After more than a year, the appointments were starting to feel hopeless. You still found it hard to leave your apartment for fear of another tragedy and your sleep cycle was barely more than erratic spurts of exhaustion.

As you entered the building, Clark was coming out and you nearly knocked the leather folder from his arm. You apologized as you skirted the wall.

“No worries,” he smiled, “You okay? Haven’t seen you lately.”

You wanted to laugh. You felt as if you saw him every time you left your apartment. First, it was the laundry, then somehow he took out his trash at the same time as you, and he even caught you at just the right moment to help you with your groceries. You were certain it was all coincidental but you found it hard enough to get past your door without the anxiety of having to put on your social mask.

“I’ve been working a lot,” you said, “Looks like you’re on your way to do just that.”

“Actually,” he sighed, “I have to go see my lawyer. A long lunch for me but not much of a break.”

“Oh,” you wrung your hands awkwardly, “Well, I’d hate for you to be late.”

You turned to leave and called after you.

“Hey,” you stopped and looked over your shoulder, “I ordered from this sandwich place last week. Pretty good. I thought maybe if you’re not buried in work, you might want to join me tonight? Or I could come to you?”

“What?” Your tone was sharper than you intended.

“You don’t have to, it’s just… between work and the divorce I haven’t really had a chance to just relax and everyone I’ve called just gives me some lame excuse instead of telling me that they promised L– my ex not to talk to me.” He chewed his bottom lip, “Just think about it.” He slowly backed away and shifted the folder in his arm, “See ya, neighbour.”

You watched him go and finally turned away. You took the stairs up to your floor and lazily played with your keys as you neared your door. You stopped and looked at Clark’s. You could hear Gertie just down the hall yelling at her five cats. 

Clark was definitely out of place yet somehow he was starting to make you feel the same.

🚪

You ran to the store to grab the few things you forgot on your way earlier. You were quick, eager to get there and back. You already knew you were just going to stay in, alone, and tell Clark no. Your anxiety was spiking and you were hoping to bury your head under a pillow and force yourself to sleep.

As you got off the elevator, you heard the voices and you slowed down. One you recognized and both were angry. Clark had never sounded so agitated and the woman matched his tone. It was too late to turn back as you stood at the end of the hall. You’d just have to slip by and try not to disturb them.

“I let you keep the place, Lois,” he growled, “What else do you want from me? You make more than I do anyway.”

“Clark, I want you to get help,” she pleaded, “You can’t just run away–”

“You were the one who ran. You called it quits.”

“You know why I had to–”

“You want me to get help but you don’t want to help me,” He snarled and you tiptoed forward, keeping your head down as you silently sorted through your keys and cradled your bag in your other hand. 

Silence pervaded the hall as you approached your door and you looked up as Clark glared past the red-headed woman. Your recognized her as she hushed and turned to follow his eyeline. Her light lashes fluttered and her face grew even paler beneath her freckles. She gaped at you and then Clark.

“Sorry, I just–” You raised your key then quickly shoved it into the lock.

“Just go, Lois. You said all you needed to back at the office,” He huffed.

“Clark,” She turned back to him, her tone was brittle, “What are you–”

“Go. Now.” He said tersely. “I’ll sign whatever you want but I don’t want to see you here again.”

She looked panicked as she glanced at you once more. Confused, you twisted your key and pushed your door open. You hurried inside and shut it quickly as you pressed yourself to the thick wood. You dropped the bag as heels clicked away down the hall. Then a knock made you flinch.

“Hey,” Clark said through the door, “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You didn’t answer. You just stood there.

“Please, answer me,” He begged.

You spun and opened the door. “Your wife is Lois Lane?”

“Ex-wife,” He corrected, “Soon enough. You know her?”

“No, not really.” You answered, “Are you… okay?”

You watched him. His blue eyes softened. As you neared, he had been so angry they had seemed to glow. His voice had lost its edge and he seemed the same carefree man who had come to haunt your hallway.

“I’m good. It’s just… complicated.” He smiled, or tried to. His jaw twitched as the cleft deepened and he sniffed back his emotion. “Just a lot has changed in the last few months.”

“Funny how fast it happens,” you muttered.

“So…,” He ran his fingernail along the pad of his thumb, “Were you up for dinner?”

You looked at him. You had been set on saying no, even rehearsing it in your head. But he seemed so sad, so lonely. You might have liked your solitude but he didn’t seem that type. You felt for him as he wasn’t only losing his wife, he was losing his friends too.

“Sure,” you threw up your hand, “This new movie came out on Prime, we could watch that?”

“Sounds good,” he perked up a little, “I’ll just go put my stuff away if you don’t mind.” He lifted the same leather file and his leather messenger bag. “Five minutes.”

“Take your time,” you said.

🚪

Clark wasn’t long as you put away the few staples you grabbed from the store and tried to tidy up your desk which was a complete mess. You folded the throw blanket over the back of the couch as you knocked and you called to him to come in.

He had only his phone and fixed his glasses as he entered tentatively. You grabbed the remote and flipped on the television. You sat and he did the same, the couch smaller under his broad figure. It was hard not to notice how big he was but he seemed even more so right beside you.

“I hope you don’t mind horror. It’s not gory or anything but I’ve heard it’s pretty freaky,” You said.

“No, not at all,” he scrolled through his phone and held it out to you, “Get whatever you want. My treat.”

“Thanks,” You took his phone and picked a chicken sandwich without much thought before handing it back. 

He keyed in his own order and asked for your buzz code before setting aside the phone. He sat back as you hit play and you suddenly felt unbearably awkward beside him. Not that seemed bothered at all.

Your food came nearly half an hour into the movie and while the dark corridors and ghostly happenings had you jumpy, the story was entirely riveting. You ate over the coffee table and sat back as you sensed the climax of the horror approach. 

You leaned on the arm of the couch as you waited for the ultimate jump scare but it never came. A long day and the weight of your full stomach had your eyes drooping and you passed out without a second thought. You sank into an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome sleep.

In your head, you were still on the couch, watching an endless movie beside your neighbour. A hazy but convincing scene to your fatigued mind. 

You woke before your dreams darkened and the usual grim sights filled your head. You opened your eyes slowly, your head on something firm as you grumbled. You felt a hand on your arm, rubbing it as you rested with your head in Clark’s lap and the rest of your body across the couch.

You pushed yourself up sharply and his hand fell away. The TV was black and silent. You were confused and surprised by your embarrassing mistake. You shook away the sleep in your eyes as Clark watched you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s fine,” he smiled, “You looked so peaceful, I just couldn’t wake you up.”

“I didn’t–” You shook your head and looked at the television again. _Had he just been sitting here in silence?_ “Well, I think that’s when we should call it a night then.” You stood stiffly and crossed your arms, “Sorry, I’m so boring.”

“Hey, you probably needed the sleep,” he stood and grabbed his phone, “And you’re not boring. Not to me.”

“Well,” you went to the door, “Thanks for dinner.”

“Not at all,” He opened the door and looked back at you, “I’d love to do it again.”

“Maybe,” You said as your hand replaced his on the handle. “Good night.”

“Night,” His blue eyes were intense as he stared at you. He didn’t seem so concerned about his ex anymore. “And you know, neighbour, I’m always right next door.”

“Alright,” You forced a smile and closed the door.

You locked it and put the chain in place. You turned back and stared at the apartment. You neared the couch and went over the night in your head. _You’d fallen asleep against that arm so how had you ended up in his lap?_

You frowned. It was weird. Something was off and you just couldn’t explain it. You were too tired for all that thinking.

🚪

The next day, you felt the shadow of the night before hanging over you. You tried to ignore it as you went through your usual routine and sat before you computer, staring at a document you had to revise. 

You’d slept heavily after Clark left and no dreams had left you restless. It was relief and yet it felt like a loss of control. You were unused to being unaware. You hated the feeling that there was something right in front of you but you just couldn’t see it.

Your phone rang. An unknown number. You didn’t answer and the same number called again. Three times and a text message blipped across your phone. You sighed and grabbed it from beside your mouse.

“Hello, this is Lois Lane, co-editor of Daily Planet. A few months ago I contacted you for an interview and I ran into you again yesterday. I was hoping you would be willing to discuss with me in person another opportunity.”

You stared at the letters; reading, re-reading, until they blurred in your eyes. You opened up the conversation and hit the phone icon in the corner. You put the phone to your ear and spun anxiously in your chair. The line picked up quickly and you were entirely unready.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” the voice answered.

“Um, hi, you just called me? Something about meeting for an interview?” You stuttered.

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m sorry to disturb you I was just hoping we could talk about–”

“I told you already, I don’t want to talk about the attack.” You interjected. “Didn’t you already write your article?”

“I did. This isn’t about the attack.” She said, “And I’d rather discuss this face to face.”

“What else could you possibly want to talk about?”

“I’ll meet you halfway. You know Bea’s Bungalow on South? I can be there in an hour? Does that work for you?”

“Why won’t you tell me what you want?”

“Because there are people in my office who I wouldn’t chance over hearing. Now, please, I know you have no reason to trust me but I–” She took a sharp breath, “Just hear me out, please. I am trying to help you.”

Your spine went rigid. You couldn’t guess what she wanted but her tone told you it wasn’t good. You had looked forward to a day where you didn’t have to leave the apartment but you couldn’t resist the knot in your stomach.

“I can make it,” you said softly, “One hour.”

🚪

You entered the diner, a small brunch place just away from downtown, and Lois was already awaiting you. She wasn’t hard to pick out from a crowd and there weren’t many customers in the place. You crossed to her and sat gingerly as you pulled your purse onto your lap.

“I got you a coffee,” she said as you sat, “But don’t feel obligated to drink it.”

“It’s fine,” you pulled the mug towards you but didn’t drink, “I’d rather just talk.”

“We can order,” she offered.

“Neither of us came here to eat,” you urged, “Please, you gotta tell me why you brought me here.”

She gave a wry smile and pursed her lips. She nodded and took a drink of her coffee. She pulled her chair closer and leaned her arms on the table.

“So, I’m sure if Clark didn’t tell you, you guessed that he and I… were together,” she began. You nodded, and inhaled the scent of the coffee before testing the hot brew. “Do you know Clark well?”

“Um, he’s just my neighbour,” you answered, “Not very well.”

She bit her lip and thought. She was being careful. Choosing her words before she said them.

“A few months ago just before I first contacted you, me and Clark were happily married. Divorce wasn’t even in my mind. Even after the attack and everything going on in the city, I thought we were fine.” She explained.

“Look, I don’t want to be a part of your break-up,” You crossed your arms. “Clark lives next door. That’s it.”

“I’m not concerned about your interest in him,” She hissed, “I’m concerned about _him_.”

You crinkled your brow and shook your head. “What?”

“By the time I called you, I’d already finished all my interviews for my article. I was just trying to– trying to confirm my own suspicions.”

“I don’t understand.”

“How could you? I didn’t even realise that you had no idea. That you weren’t the other woman trying to take my husband. Not until I served the papers.”

“I just met Clark last month,” you swallowed as the coffee made your stomach turn.

“Yes, but he knew you a long time before that. I don’t know when exactly it began but I found all of it; every post, every picture off your social media was in his phone. Saved. And there were other photos of you and you didn’t even realise he was taking them.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” You could barely breathe as she reached across the table. You stared at her hand.

“You have to stay away from Clark,” she said, “Because he won’t stay away from you.”

“Why would I believe you? You’re his ex–”

“Here,” She pulled back and took out her phone. She dragged her thumb around the screen and handed it over. “I saved this in my phone the day I found it all. I need something to confront him with. You can see the date right there at the top.”

You took her phone and stared at the screen. It was you outside your therapist’s office. You were reaching into your purse as you looked up the street. It was when the office next door was still under construction; months ago.

“So, you knew this and you just gave up once he was out of your hair?”

“No, I didn’t give up. I was stupid. I thought he would let it go you know and… even if I had tried, Clark is not what he seems to be. He’s scary. Dangerous.” Her voice cracked.

“And what am I supposed to do? Upheave my whole life because he’s crazy?”

“It might be an idea,” she said, “Just move away. Or you can try to file a report. At least now that you know, you can try to keep yourself safe.”

“Why are you telling me all this? It doesn’t sound like you’re going to help me.”

“I can’t. All I can do is tell you. Even that might be too much. If Clark found out…” She sat back and shuddered. “The only reason he’s still at the Daily Planet is because he wants to keep an eye on me. Wants to make sure I don’t get in his way but yesterday, when I realised what he’d done. That he’d just planted himself right next to you… If I was you, I wouldn’t even go back there alone.”

“I have nowhere else,” you murmured as you touched your throat. It was painfully tight. 

You thought of Clark; he had been in your apartment just the night before. You’d fallen asleep right beside him.

“I can drive you to the station. You can show them the photo. I’ll send you it.”

“And that’s it? I know now? It’s all good?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do anything else.” She hung her head, “I have family, family he knows. I can’t let them get hurt because of me.”

You pushed the mug away and stood. Your purse dangled from your elbow.

“Thanks,” You said numbly as you pulled out your wallet and placed a bill on the table, “I’ll find my own way to the station.”

🚪

You sat at the station for two hours before you saw a detective and it all turned out to be a waste of time. You went over your varied encounters with Clark and the conversation with his soon-to-be ex-wife, even showing the photo on your phone only to be told that report could not be filed with plausible suspicion or evidence. You were told you were overreacting to harmless run-ins and the spiteful allegation of a former spouse. If you could produce evidence of a threat, then you _might_ be granted a temporary order.

You left, deflated and distressed. You really had no choice but to go back to your apartment, you only hoped you didn’t run into Clark on your way. The closer you got to your building, the faster your heart raced. At the front doors, you made up your mind.

You could move but that would take time; time you might not have without some way to protect yourself. You could only protect yourself with an order from the court but you couldn’t get that without evidence. _So how could you get your hands on the evidence to not only ensure your safety but confirm your suspicions?_

The risk was the same as doing nothing at all. If Clark was as Lois said, then one way or another, he would close in on you. You wouldn’t wait around for him, you’d push him out into the open yourself. You really had nothing to lose.

So you climbed the stairs and didn’t even flinch as Clark appeared from behind his door. It was as if he’d been waiting for you. You were certain he had.

“Hey,” he leaned against the frame, “Busy day?”

“Got a bit lost on my way home,” you unlocked your door.

“Well, if you’re not too worn out, my pizza just showed up. It’s a large.”

You looked at him. Your hand rested on your door handle as you considered him. That might be your chance; find a real photo, maybe something on his computer; distract him long enough to investigate. If not, you were thrusting yourself into the jaws of the beast.

“I guess I’m kinda hungry,” you slid your key out, “Why not?”

You pushed your keys into your purse and tried not squirm as he waited for you to slip past him into his apartment. You noticed how his eyes clung to you, how he relished your every movement. You knew deep down Lois hadn’t lied; she’d shown you proof even if the police hadn’t accepted it as such.

You crossed the threshold and immediately regretted it. The door shut loudly behind Clark as he followed you inside. His place was neat; framed articles and a degree hung on his walls. A leather couch and a matching lounge chair, a large television, a richly patterned carpet. It was all arranged so precisely. A model life.

“I hope you don’t mind pepperoni,” He said as he went through to the kitchen, “How many pieces do you want?”

“Just one is fine. I’m not too hungry.” 

You looked along the bookshelf. A whole line of magazines dating back to the Second World War. You turned as his shadow appeared behind you and you took the plate from him.

“I was just watching this documentary on Hawaii. It’s pretty interesting.” He went to the couch and set his plate on the glass coffee table.

“Cool,” you sat as far from him as you could without being too obvious. Your eyes searched the room for any trace of, well, you.

You ate slowly and when you finished, you took your plate out yourself. Clark offered you more and you refused. The tomato sauce was already giving you heartburn.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom quickly?” You asked.

“You want me to pause this?”

“No, no,” you waved him away.

“Just down the hall,” he smiled.

You nodded and tried not to run into the hall. You went to the bathroom and pulled the door closed as you passed. You continued on down the hall to the bedroom. You listened as you stopped and kept your footsteps light. You turn the knob carefully and tiptoed inside.

You had to be quick. You skimmed the room; the bed was made and everything was just as neat as the front room. A desk sat beside the window, a slim laptop beside a cup of pens. You neared and slid open a drawer. 

You pulled out the same leather folder you’d seen him with before. You opened it and found scrawled notes within; narrow, slanted writing. A list of shops and prices; and what seemed to be measurements on a post-it stuck to the front page. Your measurements, the last you checked.

You took out your phone and took a picture. It likely wasn’t enough and you’d have to look at his computer or his phone. You opened the laptop but it was password protected. You swore and turned back. You were taking too long and getting nothing.

The closet was slightly open. You neared as a piece of blue fabric poked out, oddly shiny as it caught the light. You touched it and pulled the sleeve out as you slid the door open. It was hard and heavy yet thin. You turned the hanger and looked the garment up and down.

_No fucking way._ It had to be a costume. You pulled it out and held it up before you. _It felt pretty fucking real._

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Clark asked and you dropped the outfit.

He took off his glasses and his eyes shone a deathly red. You recalled the attack, the wind sweeping around you as you were carried in thick arms, a red cape billowing loudly. His arms. _Was that when it had all started?_

“Clark, I’m sorry, I was… I should go,” you tried to slip past him but he caught you as he tossed his glasses away.

“Go where?” He said darkly.

“Please…”

“I know you talked to Lois,” he growled as he turned you and his arm wrapped around your neck. “She’s mad,” He squeezed and you slapped his thick bicep, “Because I could never love her like I love you.”

Your vision began to spot as you kicked out. The room dimmed as you struggled to breathe and your head swelled. Your eyes rolled back as you clawed at his arm.

“Cl-ark,” You choked out before the world faded away.

🚪

Air tunneled around your body as you laid broken in his arms. Your saviour had a face; Superman, the man you knew as Clark Kent, your neighbour. He held you against him as the world crumbled around him and landed with a jostle. He set you down before the doors of the hospital and disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared. Everything turned white and you were awake.

Fabric rustled as you stirred. The bed dipped and a figure sat on the edge, fixing his cuffs as he looked over his shoulder. You sat up and Clark stood.

“Ah,” he raised his hand, “Stay. We have to talk.”

Your body was heavy, your head too. Your existence was shrouded in confusion. He went to the desk and took a pen from the cup and laid it across the single pages laid atop the laptop. He sat in the chair sideways as he faced you. You felt the silk around you. A pure white dress clung to your figure.

“You didn’t even let me get to the good news,” he intertwined his fingers and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Divorce is final. Regardless, I’ve made sure Lois won’t bother us anymore.”

“Clark,” You murmured.

“Shhh,” he hushed, “Don’t. Don’t scream, don’t run, don’t fight. We both know that won’t work with me.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What am I doing? Helping you? Trying to take care of you,” he stood and approached the bed, “ _Protecting_ you.”

He put a knee on the bed and grabbed your hand. He drew you with him as he backed off and you were forced to your feet. You swayed, unsteady and still light-headed.

“What did you do to Lois?” You breathed.

“Don’t worry about Lois.” He sneered and dragged you to the desk. He reached behind him and took the pen. He shoved it into your hand and closed your fingers around it painfully. “Just sign it.”

“What– Clark, no.”

You looked at him; his tuxedo, the white dress. It was some sort of deranged ceremony.

“You can’t do this.” You struggled with him and he turned you, his hands on your wrists as he pressed his large body against your back. He bent you over the desk. 

“Sign,” he snarled. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

_…but I will_ , were the words he didn’t say. You trembled against him as he squeezed your hand and you straightened the pen tip on the paper. Cautiously, he released you and you moved the nib against the paper. The loops of your signature were etched at the bottom of the contract.

“In the morning, we’ll go down to city hall and get it finalised,” his tone changed in a moment, “Man and wife.” 

His hand brushed your ass and made you wince. You stared at the ink and dropped the pen.

“You’re Superman. You’re supposed to save people.” You said quietly.

“I did save you.” He said as he rested his hands on your shoulders. “I knew that day I saved you for a reason.”

“But–”

“She never wanted to be my wife. She was already married to her work.” He spun you to face him. “She still is. She wanted the divorce. She handed me those papers herself.”

“Clark–”

“You’re gorgeous in that dress. I knew it would be perfect on you.”

You peeked down at the thin straps, the deep vee, the hip-hugging skirt, the short train. You grabbed his wrists as he edged you toward the bed. The back of your knees met the mattress and you gripped him tighter, trying not to fall backwards.

“I’m scared,” you said.

“Why?” He asked as he leaned in, “You’re safe with me.”

He kissed you and fell forward, crushing you atop the bed. You bounced and his tongue slid along your lips. He forced his way inside your mouth and groaned. His hand crawled down your arm and kneaded your hip. You were powerless beneath him. 

You wriggled and he stilled you easily as his fingertips dug into your hip painfully. He could break it like that. He could open your eyes and blind you just as quickly. The protector of Metropolis had chosen to be your personal villain.

He drew back and leaned on one elbow as his hand explored the bodice of the dress. He admired your chest and pushed the strap down your arm as he bent over you. Your hand went to the top of his head, his hair combed neatly to the side. He grabbed it and shoved it away. He held your hand down until your arm was limp.

He revealed your chest and pushed his face between your tits. He purred and nibbled at the flesh, teasing your nipples with his tongue. He ventured further down, his hand still on your chest as he nuzzled along your pelvis. He dragged his hand down and tugged at your skirt. He slid down onto the floor and pushed your dress above his head.

He forced your legs apart and moved between them. You watched him bow his head beneath the silk and gasped as his nose met your skin. Your panties were gone already. You were only the white gown. You clawed at the blankets you and closed your eyes as you dropped your head.

His warm breath warned you before he brushed his lips against your cunt. His hand crept along your thigh and tickled you as it edged closer to his mouth. He slid two fingers up between your legs and pulled apart your folds. He dragged his tongue slowly along your clit and tasted you. 

You stretched your arms across the bed and tried to pull away from him. He grabbed your thighs and held you in place. He growled and you stilled once more. 

“Relax, baby,” He hummed through the silk and his lips tickled you.

You tensed as his tongue flicked over your clit again. He lapped and licked at your folds and lifted your legs over his shoulder. The heat trapped in the skirt had you out of breath and that within had you writhing. Your core bloomed and you held your tongue between your teeth as you tried not to whine.

He pushed a thick finger inside of you and you gasped. He added another and moved them in and out in time with his mouth. His motion intensified as you moaned through your teeth and arched into him without thinking. He hummed and the vibration rippled through your body, urging you closer to your peak.

You panted and slapped the bed. You let out a cry as you crested the steep rise and your wits storm in a wave of ecstasy. You closed your legs around his head and rode out your orgasm, your hips bucking on their own, hungry for every last bit of delight.

You were left empty as he slipped his fingers from you and wiped your arousal down your thigh. He pulled back and the silk slipped from over his head. He climbed to his feet and pushed his shoulders back. He took his jacket off decisively as you pushed yourself up with shaky arms. He unbuttoned his fly as he neared you again and shoved his fly down.

He bent and scooped you up, tossing you further onto the bed. The gown fell up your legs as he forced them around him and crawled over you. He felt around blindly as he kissed you. You shivered as your eyes searched for one last sliver of hope. He fumbled between you and you felt the prod of flesh against you.

He poked you with his cock, hard and thick against your folds. He groaned and framed your face with his hand as he drew back to stare into your frightened eyes. He stroked your cheek and dragged his thumb down to your mouth. He lined himself up with your entrance and as he pushed into you, he slipped his thumb into your mouth.

He let out a long breath, grunting as he met his limit. Your walls strained around him as your arms pushed against his broad chest, trapped beneath his weight. You were entirely full, too full, but the ache was underlined with a deeper longing.

He thrust and the entire bed shook. You whimpered and he did it again as he pressed his cheek to yours. His hot breath nestled along your neck as he began to rock. He pushed down on your tongue as he jerked his hips desperately against you. Your voice grew louder, in pain, in surprise, in pleasure. It didn’t sound like you. It couldn’t be.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and left a trail of saliva down your chin. He stretched his hand over your throat and groaned as he rutted into you. His other hand slid beneath your ass and he lifted your pelvis, reaching even deeper than before.

“Oh, baby,” he purred. “You’re so good.”

He swept his arm up around you and rolled with you against him. He stayed inside of you and settled you atop him. He gripped your hips and moved them for you as you tried to push away from him. You bit your lip as he sent a thrill through you and you succumbed to the heat between you.

“That’s it,” he cooed as you buried your head in his shoulder. You couldn’t quite catch your breath as he moved his hips with your. “Oh, baby.”

You latched onto him, holding his bicep through the dress shirt. Your eyes rolled back as your nerves spun you felt another climax rising inside of you. He nuzzled the top of your head, his warmth breath washing over you as he inhaled your scent. You came, slapping your hand against his chest as you murmured senselessly.

He turned you onto your side and held your leg against him, bent over his hip as he kept his motion. He plunged into you over and over. His deep voice grew louder and his hand spread over your ass. The noise of his body and yours mingled with the low moans that slipped from your lips. 

He pushed you onto your back and sank to his limit. He hissed as his thrusts turned erratic. He threw his head back and bared his teeth. He snarled and emptied himself in you. He slowed until he was still and let his weight fall onto you as he collapsed. 

Your dress was crumpled around your middle and damp with sweat. He sighed and played with your naked chest as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he rasped, “My beautiful wife.”


End file.
